Kicker
by Basco57
Summary: In which Sam's sexuality becomes a negotiation.
1. Me

A/N: **When it switches to past tense writing, that's a flashback... Just sayin that for the one person who doesn't catch on.  
I've been getting bored with iCarly lately, so I needed to look at it from a completely different angle than I typically would to write this badboy. So that's why it's definitely not what I would usually write. Actually, it's better, I think.**

**Warning - language.**

**Disclaimer**: I think it's pretty obvious, but this is just habitual now.

* * *

The real kicker is Sam's straight.

"See, the real kicker is I'm straight."

Wendy doesn't buy it.

"I don't buy that."

Sam exhales slowly, concentrating on the meticulous decoding of Freddie's locker. She gives the dial a few smooth turns, her ear pressed against the cold metal. She keeps a steady eye on the red head.

The red head's eye on her isn't steady. It's penetrating. And _knowing_. Sam can feel her temperature rise.

Wendy isn't stupid. She knows people. She knows situations. And she definitely knows that the color rising in Sam's cheeks is nowhere near a blush. But anger seems to fit nicely. Before the blonde does something irrational that Wendy can only assume will end in physical pain on her part, Wendy makes the executive decision to brandish the means of leverage.

The hall is still. The situation is whimsical. The bacon is crispy. Sam can smell it through the brown paper sack.

The salty, saturated aroma fills her nostrils as she inhales, immediately sending the message to her spit glands. Uh oh. She watches Wendy carefully. She tries breathing through her mouth. The bacon is relentless. Its scent continues to permeate through the greasy paper sack and into the air. She can taste it on her tongue every time she takes a breaths.

Hesitation. Sam is just a combination crack away from Freddie's lunch… But, man, the smell of the bacon is overwhelming.

"Fine, Wendy. What the hell is it?"

Wendy smiles. The triumph is undeniable. "One o'clock. Here. Can you get out of class?"

"I invented getting out of class."

"Be there." Wendy tosses the greasy paper sack.

Sam's left hand shoots up. She can practically taste the bacon as the warm bundle makes contact with her palm. She waits for Wendy to disappear, glaring after her all the while, before diving into the bacon sack like a ravenous... dinosaur… or something.

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

Carly is worried.

She's not worried for Sam. Okay, scratch that. She's terrified for Sam. But she's not worried that Sam just stood up, briefly announced to the teacher that there was an emergency, and sprinted from the room. Tis typical behavior. Sam probably heard the hotdog vender outside, or got another craving for Freddie's lunch, or was heeding to the call of nature and decided it would be more amusing to make a scene. It's around one o'clock. Sam is bored out of her mind at this point in the school day. All of these are quite possible.

No, Carly was more worried when Wendy perked up, announced that she was going to puke, and left as well.

There has been something weird going on between Wendy and Sam. No doubting that. Ever since Jake's party those two have been abundant in sideways glances, and awkward shuffling in the other's presence. What it all boils down to is the fact that Sam's not a big fan of being alone in Wendy's presence these day, so Carly tries to intervene whenever possible. And Carly knows exactly why this is going down too… She just doesn't like talking about. Or thinking about it. Oh God, she's thinking about it.

Carly makes the executive decision to forgo her typical integrity and get out of class. "Uh… Mr. Howard? I, uh, I gotta puke, uh, too." And she decides it's not too far from the truth as she darts out of the room, trying to remove certain images from her head.

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

This is going to work. Wendy is convinced this is going to work. Nothing is going to stop this. Not the precarious situation. Not Sam Puckett's stubborn head. Not the man coming down on - well, wait, the man coming down on them is one thing that could stop this. They'll just have take care of business before any teachers notice they've gone AWOL.

So Wendy looks all business as she approaches Sam. "Wow, you actually showed."

Sam is leaning against the same row of lockers as earlier. Wendy's eyes are automatically glued to the little fleshy strip of skin showing above the blonde's belt. Sam narrows her gaze. "Yeah, I showed. Only because I didn't have anything better to do… The, uh, I didn't have any paint to watch dry. And… the classical music festival wasn't in town. And, er, the stationary club wasn't in session!"

"Good one," Wendy says absently. She shakes her head back into reality, quickly unlocking her eyes from where they were, darting up and down, taking in everything under Sam's chin down to her red All Star sneaks. She's glad Sam is unobservant.

Sam takes a viscous bite from the chicken leg that seems to have conjured in mid-air whilst Wendy blinked once. "What you want anyway?" Sam spits. Literally. Wendy's a bit grossed out, but accustomed to Sam spit all the same.

Wendy's eyes fall darkly. "I think you have a pretty good idea."

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

Carly spots them in an abandoned hallway.

Sam has a furious demeanor and a furious countenance as she furiously takes a furious bite of her emergency _I'm furious_ chicken leg. She looks furious. Wendy is making sexy eyes.

Carly picks up her pace.

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

Sam glares, nostrils flared. Wendy's trying to look imposing. But she is pretty sure she's just coming off as suggestive. Dammit. Damn Sam and the way she brings out all things coquettish in Wendy.

"Heeey…" Carly makes a sliding entrance, crash landing against the lockers between them. Neither bats an eye. Their intense stare down goes uninterrupted. "Um, what's up guys?" Carly looks nervous. Her voice is shrill.

Wendy tucks a hair behind her ear. She lets a beat pass, shifting her weight. Carly swallows. She shifts her weight as well, instinctively dropping back into a somewhat protective stance around Sam. Sam notices it happening. She rolls her eyes, smiling.

Carly clears her throat, "I didn't mean to interrupt. What were you saying, Wendy?"

Wendy can feel her heat rising. She grinds her teeth inherently. "Huh? Oh! Uh, right. Uh, yeah. Nothing. No thing. Nothing going on here except a friendly exchange."

Carly doesn't buy it, but she's relieved to have stopped it. Whatever it is. "Okay, cool! I was just gonna…" she motions to her locker, sauntering a few feet away.

Wendy works in haste. She plucks a periwinkle sharpie from her bag, then grabs Sam's arm and tugs her close, watching Carly all the while. Sam doesn't pull away. She knows it's best to just get this over with.

Wendy starts a loopy scrawl on the blonde's forearm. Sam hates how Wendy is so quiet, and how she keeps glancing up at Carly every second. It feels like a secret. It makes Sam's gut hurt, and her hands ache like she's gonna burst unless she hits someone soon. Sam hates this game.

Wendy is putting the sharpie away just as Carly finishes retrieving her books for her next class. Carly smiles. "Ready, Sam?" Sam gives feeble nod. Her arm reads _tomorrow. Same spot. Twelve. Be there._ She hides it in her sleeve, glaring after Wendy's retreating form. Sam fucking hates this game.

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

"Dude, I'm totally gonna get us laid tonight!"

"Sam…" The bass was blaring in Carly's ears, vibrating up her spine, and not in the good kind of trippy way, but in the way that made her want to puke. And the lights were flashing too bright. And she could feel the migraine coming on. And if _one _more guy spilled a drink on her… Oh, and Carly didn't want to get laid. Not tonight.

She just wanted to go home, finish her AP Calc homework, maybe drink some hot cocoa (with marshmallows if she was feeling crazy), watch a romantic comedy or two, then curl up in her big purple comforter and die. Or sleep.

But about nine minutes ago, Sam's smirking face lit up on Carly's phone, and Carly answered, and that's how she found herself in a place like this at this late hour. She should have known. Nothing good ever follows a Sam smirk.

Sam flung her arms out, stabilizing the rest of the world as she stumbled across the crowded room. "Sam!" Carly tried louder, but with no sign of prevail. She grabbed her friend's elbow, who giggled in return. When Carly arrived on the scene, she wasn't expecting Sam to be this drunk. But she should've guessed at the way Sam's voice was so loose and slurred and not brash when she had called for a ride earlier.

"Sam, c'mon, you wanted a ride!" Carly gave the blonde's trapped elbow a harsh yank. "Now I'm giving you a ride!"

The corners of Sam's mouth turned up slowly and deliberately as she dropped her head to her shoulder. Looking sideways at Carly, she snorted. "You wanna give me a ride?" Then she keeled over in a fit of giggles, because this knowledge was apparently gut busting. Carly dutifully pulled Sam back to her feet, but not without a grumble.

"Yes, Sam, you said you needed a ride! What are you laughing about?"

Sam staggered for a moment, supporting herself on a dude with gauges the size of dimes in his ears and a tattoo covered torso. "No, Carls, Carls... it's, like, hil air us 'cause sounds like you wanna _ride _me!" To demonstrate this further, Sam started in with gyrating hips and a few pelvic thrusts surprisingly in tune with the cadence of the song pounding in Carly's ears.

Carly scowled at tattoo boy, who didn't look like he minded the drunken display too much. She wrapped a protective arm around Sam's shoulders and held her breath as they dove through the sea of sweaty bodies, foreign smells, and mostly alcohol. She was having a bit of trouble with Sam, who was still shouting back at tattoo boy, seeing if he'd be interested in doing her best friend who was in serious need of being laid.

"Sam, I can hear you. I'm right here, you know."

"Oh. Oh, hey Carls."

Carly helped Sam into the car and buckled her in. They were out of there quickly. Carly knew it wouldn't be long before cops were showing up, and Sam was supposed to check in with her parole officer later that week. Carly was just glad she arrived before Sam experienced strike number three. Annoyed, but glad.

"You alright, Sam?"

Sam kicked her feet up on the dash, and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "Why'd'ya take them away from me? I was mackin' on all'a dat, Carls!"

Carly kept a steady gaze on the road. She didn't want to look at Sam. She might break character and smile, or let out the helpless chuckle she knew would come if she saw Sam now. Carly hated herself for it, but she kind of loved it when Sam was drunk. It wasn't all the time things like chill and adorable made it through Sam's filter. "Yeah… I'm sure you were _mackin'_ and all. I'm so sorry. But you called me, actually. You remember that?"

"Mmm… Nope! You got any chicken? I could mack on some chicken right now." She hiccuped, then smiled drowsily.

"Sam, stop changing the subject." Sam waved at a streetlamp as they passed it. Carly paused, momentarily feeling ridiculous for telling an individual with her inhibitions so low to stop changing the subject, then pressed on, "Why did you call? I'm mean, don't get me wrong, I'm glad you did! But did something happen, or… What? What made you call? You sounded panicked."

Sam rolled down the window. Carly was always so worried. Worried, worried, worried. Heh, worried. "Umm…" Sam twirled a strand of blonde hair in her fingers as she let the sobering night air wash over her face. "Oh, yeah! Uh, it got real weird… Uh, like, me an' Wendy hardcore made out."

Carly stopped at a green light. "What?"

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

The silence thickens. The stare down continues. Gazes deepen. Blue eyes glare into green. The pause drones on. Onlookers grow uncomfortable. Lines have been crossed. The war has begun. The battle of wits is afoot.

"Go fuck a llama, Wendy."

And the battle of wits is immensely witty.

Wendy remains composed. Wendy knows what she's doing. She knows how to play the game. She knows how to pick her fights… Okay, maybe not so much on the picking her fights part, as she finds Sam Puckett scarier than hell, but she knows how to play the game.

She looks up and down the empty hallway twice, more out of habit than actual suspicion. "Listen here, Puckett," Wendy growls. Sam rolls her eyes. "You'd better… You'd bet… You… Carly?"

A pretty face and a curtain of black hair juts out from behind Sam's shoulder. "Uh huh?"

Wendy points directly at her. "You." She throws her thumb to the side. "Leave." She's not gonna mess around today. Sam is two for two in showing up for their hallway appointments. Wendy is not about to take that for granted.

Sam snorts, probably loud enough to stir the inhabitants of the teacher's lounge. "You aren't calling the shots here, Wendy… Wendy…" She pauses, sticking one finger in the air, motioning for Wendy to pause as well. A rough whisper escapes the side of her mouth and makes its way up to her dark haired companion. "I should know this, but what the hell is Wendy's last name?"

"Irrelevant," Carly whispers back.

"You don't call the shots, Wendy Irrelevant!"

Carly sighs. "No, like in this situation that question is-,"

"Well I don't think you want your dearest Carly to hear the offer I'm about to make," Wendy warns.

Carly starts in, "Well, what kind of offer-,"

"First things first. Why the hell have you been stalking me and telling me to meet you in abandoned hallways all day?" Sam demands.

Carly is opportune with the rare pause. "Hey, Sam, before you-,"

"So I could get you alone…" Wendy throws an accusing glance at Carly. "And ask you about something."

"Guys, I really don't think-,"

"Fine," Sam says. "But anything you wanna talk to me about, Carly can hear too. Isn't that right, Carls?"

"Yeah, I guess, but we-,"

"Now what the hell is it, Wendy?" Sam spits.

Wendy glares for a back and forth between the steadfast companions for a moment. Something clicks, the mood shifts, she finally gets it. She sighs. She's never going to catch Puckett alone as long as Shay is living, and Wendy doesn't think this particular operation requires a murder. She feigns a confession as she starts, "Look, Rebbecca Berkowitz found out about…" Wendy glances at Carly.

"She's cool," Sam assures.

Wendy nods. "She found out about… _you know what._" Sam appears unaffected. Carly swallows, and her cheeks get hot. Wendy lowers her voice, "Rebbecca seemed pretty excited to find out that you're, well…"

"I'm not," Sam states adamantly.

"Right." Wendy's all skeptics. "Anyway, I'm getting fifty bucks to try setting you up with Rebbecca. Eighty bucks if I get through to you, and probably a hundred if she gets into your pants within the next week."

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

Sam isn't the retreating type, but man, this shit calls for some serious regrouping.

"Carly, you love me, right?"

The question catches Carly off guard. Her throat tightens. She glances down at the blonde girl, sprawled out on the hallway floor where she flopped herself down after a rather unsightly getaway. Carly plants Indian-style next to her best friend. She has to cough before she can talk, and even then it's feeble. "Yeah, Sam, I love you."

"So you're gonna help me out?"

Carly shifts, and now her hand is just barely brushing Sam's. Just barely. "Yeah. Don't worry, Sam. This is gonna be alright."

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

It took some convincing, but Sam is going to meet Wendy in the hallway again after sixth period. Under the condition that Carly gets to tag along, of course.

Wendy is already waiting for them by the lockers. She's not too worried. She's early.

She pops a piece of gum as she runs over things again in her mind. The steps, the facts. Okay. This is gonna be alright. She's definitely gonna pull this off. Though the whole Carly being involved thing puts a bit of a damper on the plan. It is going to be difficult to make Sam feel cornered when Carly's tagging along.

It's okay. Wendy is pretty sure she can work around it. Plus, she's got a secret weapon this time. A surprise attack. Rebbecca will be joining them. It's gonna work. Wendy just needs to keep the vision. Eyes on the prize. This scheme has rhyme and reason, and a purpose greater than any of them.

Really, if you think about it, her scheme is going to help a lot of people. All sorts of guys pine after Puckett and Shay, presumably because they find the two for one deal appealing. And Wendy has Rebbecca thinking they're going through with this plan to take out Puckett and Shay as the competition, which they are… Kind of. Definitely. Probably.

No, definitely. Wendy isn't weak, and it would be weak to be the one who remains in to girls after a _situation_, one which Wendy couldn't deny she enjoyed, and often in the darkness of her room memory snapshots which certainly appeal to the senses penetrate her carefully filtered thoughts, and their _situation _was too involved to decide who's gay by the logic of pitcher and catcher, and Wendy definitely doesn't want to be the gay one, and she is going to have to trick Sam into going public about being in to girls so people get the idea that Sam came on to her before someone finds out about the _situation_ and traces it back to Wendy…

So… yeah, that definitely wasn't the reason for the plan. It was to kill off the competition, or something.

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

Don't worry. Rebbecca's got this ace in the hole lined up.

"Hey, Sam. Is there a mirror in your pocket?"

Sam's eyes are guarded. Her hands are in her hoody. She's watching Rebbecca carefully, almost timidly. Carly hates seeing Sam timid. It makes her sick. It's the most unnatural thing in the world. Carly drapes an arm around Sam's shoulder, who replies to Rebbecca in a growl, "No, there's no mirror in my pocket."

"That's weird," Rebbecca breathes as her tongue slides slowly and deliberately across her top row of teeth, making sure Sam catches it. "Because I can totally see myself in your pants."

Wendy stifles a laugh. Watching Sam's heat rise and Carly get all offended and protective brings her great joy. Her plan is going swimmingly. And Rebbecca has proved to be a dangerous weapon. There's nothing better than getting Sam out of her element, and apparently girls hardcore trying to get her into bed is out of her element. At least when she's sober.

"That's just _rude_," Carly tells them.

Wendy and Rebbecca laugh. "Now now, Shay." Rebbecca takes on a patronizing mien. "If you can't take the heat, you can leave."

Carly's grip on Sam's shoulders tightens as she glares between Wendy and Rebbecca. Sam's quiet. She crosses her arms tightly over her chest. Rebbecca outwardly appears to find this really frustrating. So does Gibby. He also finds the confinement inside his locker and the fact that the girls are completely immune to his calls for help frustrating. But at least the conversation on the outside world is rather interesting. Gibby loves a good girl fight, especially when it involves the class whore trying to get into the class bully's pants.

Sam is pissed. "What the hell do you want, Wendy? Why the hell is she here? Where's the bacon you promised me?"

Wendy gives Rebbecca a slight nod. Rebbecca clears her throat. "Hey, Sam, guess what."

"Let's see… You're gonna back off before I make you bleed and cry?"

Rebbecca stays strong. "You know you like it when I'm salacious." She winks.

"You are gonna be sittin' in your locker all day wishing you hadn't winked, kid. And what the fuck does _salacious _mean?"

Rebbecca rolls her eyes."Salacious, you know..." Sam just blinks. Rebbecca huffs, "Salacious. Arousing or appealing to sexual desire or imagination. Lustful. Bawdy..."

Sam wrinkles her nose. "Ew."

Rebbecca doesn't get thrown off easily. Her game is tight. "Hey, Sam. There's a party at your ankles… Your pants are invited!"

Carly tuts disapprovingly. Sam glowers. Wendy is beaming. Rebbecca is far from done. "Hey, Sam-,"

"Man, you better get her a muzzle!" Sam shouts at Wendy.

"How many licks is it gonna take to get the the tootsie roll center of your tootsie pop?" Rebbecca asks with an impressively crass look involving her tongue and eyebrows. Wendy is proud. Carly is appalled. Her gut is sinking like a stone. She'd say something, but for some reason her throat is all closed up.

"Goddammit, Berkowitz! You better shut your face before I rearrange that shit."

"Hey, Sam. You can call me Rebbecca. I mean, may as well get used to it. You're gonna be screaming it all night." Rebbecca has a knack for this. Her wink is so subtle. And she can make the corner of her lip quiver on cue. Solid.

Sam cracks. "That's it!" She lunges for Rebbecca, who's got a cocky grin on her face. Carly is quick to react. She wraps her arms around Sam's waste, holding the smaller girl back with all her might, which is admittedly not too much. "I'm gonna kill her," Sam breathes through clenched teeth. "I'm gonna kill her."

"Sam, it's not worth it," Carly sighs. Wendy is timely in revealing the bacon. Sam starts taking easier breaths upon seeing the greasy sack. She exhales slowly, then straightens up. Carly is still holding her tightly.

"Hey, Sam," Rebbecca starts. Carly can feel Sam stiffen in her arms. "There's two hundred and six bones in your body. Want another one?"

Sam's nostrils flare, her brows furrow. She plucks the bacon from Wendy, then wiggles out of Carly's arms, storming off down the hallway. Carly looks at Rebbecca, chastising, "That's not even biologically correct. Grow up, Rebbecca. You and Sam," the words taste bad coming from her mouth. She swallows. "Never gonna happen." With a parting glare, she turns to catch up with Sam.

Wendy frowns. Her head hurts. That was supposed to go differently. Rebbecca doesn't notice Wendy's sudden downcast demeanor. She beams, then cups her hands over her mouth, and calls after them, "Hey, Sam! Damn girl! You got more curves than a race track!"

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

There are two things Rebbecca Berkowitz is absolutely sure of: she prefers being groped on her left side, and she's straight.

But when Wendy found her at Jake's party last weekend and begged for her help in some sort of masterful plan, well, Rebbecca was simply too inebriated at the time to turn her down. Of course pretending to want to screw some chick in your class sounds fun when you have that much liquor in your system.

And Rebbecca can't back out now. What had started out as Rebbecca's ploy to get cheap weed and alcohol, and Wendy's way to get her name (and number) out there among Ridegway's male population has kind of spiraled it's way into a strange friendship of some sort. Or at least a mutual agreement that they have to be friendly to one another in order to reap the aforementioned benefits. And friends don't bail on friends. Also Wendy is the only girl Rebbecca can hang out with anymore because all the others hate her. Something to do with how she's a dirty, home wrecking, crack whore... So… Yeah, she can't back out now.

From what Rebbecca understands, all she has to do is hit on Sam Puckett. Alright, mission accomplished. Though Puckett was a bit of a tough crowd back there, what with her storming off and all.

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

"It's not working," Wendy finally admits, looking up from her textbook.

"That's because you're on the wrong page," Rebbecca whispers back, whispering because they are in the library, in the library because they have study hall this period, and in study hall because they both got kicked out of History of Music for texting and smoking. Mostly for smoking.

"No, I mean my plan."

"What exactly is the plan again...?"

"Just, gah, I explained it to you!"

"Yeah... Well..."

Wendy brings her fingers to her temples, and begins rubbing small circles. "How could it not work? That shit was foolproof!" She turns accusingly on Rebbecca. "I mean, you're supposed to be able to get _anyone _into bed!"

Rebbecca clears her throat. "My ego will not allow me to take that as anything but a compliment, so thank you."

"And Puckett... Well, she seemed like she might, you know, be the gay... I mean, she was totally the gay one!"

Rebbecca ducks her head, as well as Wendy, when the librarian stalks by all suspicious like. "Wendy," Rebbecca whispers when they're in the clear. "What is it with you and all this 'Sam's the gay one' talk lately? Gay one of what? With who?" Wendy is glad Rebbecca's braincells are fried to shit.

Wendy watches Rebbecca carefully. She keeps the poker face. Her countenance is one thing she can control, and she sure as hell isn't gonna give anything away. Avoid and deny, that's the code. She blinks once. "Eh, what?"

Mission accomplished. Rebbecca loses interest. "I dunno. See that guy walking over there? He's pretty hot, right?"

Wendy doesn't look. "Sure." Only now does it occur to her that maybe Puckett _is _the straight one, which would ruin everything her plan is built around. She quickly pushes the thought from her mind. Winners don't doubt. They win. She just needs to rethink her plan... Maybe... Maybe Wendy can't get Sam to climb on top of Rebecca because she just needs someone Sam's more comfortable around. Like _really_ comfortable around. Someone like...

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

"Hey, Carls, here's your underwear back."

"Ugh, Sam, you're not supposed to borrow it without asking _or _return it at school!"

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

Someone like Carly Shay. "Perfect..."

"What?" Rebecca asks.

"Eh, nothing. Except there's gonna be a change in the game plan."

Rebbecca stands up. "Balls, dude. Well I'ma go follow that hot guy. Wanna get our belly buttons pierced after school?"

"Uh, sure," Wendy replies offhandedly.

"'Kay, I'll text you." Rebbecca starts after the dude, putting her game face on, which involves making sexy eyes and taking off her cardigan.

Wendy's lips turn up into a slow smile. _Perfect_. The math is easy. This is gonna be cake. When life gives you lemons, sell that shit for a profit. When you accidentally make out with Sam Puckett at a party, convince her and her best friend that they're lesbians to eliminate them as competition among Ridegway's male population, but mostly to make sure you're not the gay one. Simple.


	2. your girlfriend

Sam's a little freaked out.

"I'm not gonna lie, I'm a little freaked out."

Carly totally understands.

"Yeah, I _totally _understand. I would be too."

In fact Carly _is _freaked out herself. She doesn't like seeing Sam pined after like this. Well, she's seen it before, but with guys, and now some chick thinks she can horn in on… whatever it is that she's horning in on. The point is, Carly isn't comfortable with this situation at all, because a girl wanting Sam as opposed to a dude is... different. Carly's just not sure why. And she's got this weird sick feeling when she thinks about it. Like, she's not sure what, but she knows she's fingering something dangerous here… And the wording of that last thought makes her heat up in all the wrong ways. Strange.

"You alright, Carls? You look kinda sick. Or like you're gonna jump my bones, or something."

"Naw, I'm fine," Carly manages. They are camped out in the hall next to their lockers. Just her, and Sam, and this weird tugging feeling mixed with the vast array of emotions going on in Carly right now. She doesn't have the time or energy to figure them out right now though. "The Rebecca thing is just weird."

"Yeah, I dunno. I think it might be a scam. I mean, Wendy and scam go hand in hand." Sam pauses thoughtfully. "Also slut." Carly gives her a disapproving look, because that's her job, but she silently agrees. Home wrecking slut, in fact.

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

Rebecca jabs a straw into a juice box.

"This situation is very delicate," she says. "We need to… We need to, like, put them on the defensive." She hands the juice box to Wendy then grabs another from the open vending machine. They are re-stocking, and the Friendly Foods worker guy is in the bathroom. Free game.

"We need to back them into a corner." Wendy takes the juice gratefully.

"Exactly. Like, make them feel like there's nowhere else to turn."

"Except to each other." Purple liquid fills Wendy's straw. She adds through the side of her mouth, slurred, "For sexual purposes, of course."

"Right. And we've gotta make them feel alone. Like, real alone."

"We need to get some ostracizing done in this bitch."

"Precisely. And… Wait, how's that gonna work?"

Wendy waves a dismissive hand. "I got it covered. It's a wonder what a bit of gossip can do."

"Good. …I think, uh, there's like a book or something called that."

Wendy shrugs. "Hmm."

"Right." Rebecca shrugs. She takes a sip of her juice. "So, what exactly is this gossiping gonna entail?"

Wendy slurps the remaining drops of sugary liquid from her own brightly colored juice box. Rebecca waits. Wendy slurps some more. Rebecca picks at a hangnail. Wendy slurps a bit harder. Gibby around the corner waiting for them to leave, almost naked, but not willing to explain. Wendy slurps the last few drops until finally she crumples the juice box and chucks it, then wipes her hands down her jeans.

She clears her throat. "It'll be simple." She turns to talk to some imaginary being. "Hey, football team, Carly and Sam totally like each other. Like, _like._" Her face contorts into an unintelligent frown. Her voice lowers considerably. "Dude, like, they aren't into boys any more? Bummer. I guess we'll have to transfer all our extra attention to the beautiful, smart, charismatic, bodacious, talented, capable, sexy Wendy. And that Rebecca chick."

"That's so money," Rebecca approves.

Wendy smiles. "I know, right? Anyways, I was thinking we'd drop them an old fashioned ransom note."

Rebecca is applying lip gloss now. She smacks twice. "You mean like that one babe of a guy in that one flick with that bitch who had the teeth?"

"…Probably, yes." They make their way to another abandoned section of the hallway as to flee the scene of the crime before the dude comes back and notices the missing juice boxes. But he never will notice them because when he returns he'll be distracted by a half naked Gibby sneaking down the hall.

They find a good hunk of wall to lean against a few right turns away. Rebecca watches Wendy through thick mascara as Wendy gathers herself for the ransom note. Her eyes move over Wendy once, then twice, then she seems to struggle with herself a moment before admitting, "So, I kind of really love your hair today, Wendy."

The compliment catches Wendy off guard. It's not typical. They may have the framework of a friendship, but it's more like the relationship of the hooker and the trick, or lack thereof. Purely carnal. Well, not literally. But they get what they need from each other and they don't deal with the formalities and shit.

Wendy utters her thanks, then searches Rebecca for a moment, and finds nothing that doesn't seem sincere. Wendy smiles then, and almost says something… something maybe… affectionate to Rebecca? Hmm. Whatever, she needs to get back on track.

She pulls out a piece of notebook paper and doesn't even bother disguising her handwriting as the sinister threat spills forth from her fuzzy pink jell pen.

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

Carly scans over the note again. Sam is still tapping her foot. "Sam, please, cut it out."

"How many times can you read the damn note, Carly? We get it, okay! They're blackmailing our shit. We get it."

This is probably the eighteenth time she's read through the pink scrawl, but she can't help it. It's like a dream. Like she's not even in her body right now. She keeps thinking that if she reads the threat enough it'll just disappear one of these times and she'll wake up in a dimension where she hasn't been dragged into some sick scam by to drama-seeking skunk sacks. But the words on the page remain, still saying that she and Sam must give some physical sign of their obvious undying love for one another at two o'clock in front of the lockers today or else come three o'clock the entire school is going to know about it whether it happens or not.

The scary thing is Wendy actually has that power.

Carly sighs. Her shoulders droop until she's matching Sam's demeanor. She doesn't want to say defeated, but… Hopeless, maybe? Hopeless is less bleak than defeated, right? It does contain the word hope after all. "Hey, Sam, this is gonna work out, okay?"

Sam seems more sure than Carly when she looks up, putting what she means to be a comforting hand on Carly's shoulder. Her eyes fall darkly. "Trust me, I know. I am going to personally make sure this works out."

It's cool. Wendy's cool. This is nothing to panic about. It's all good. This was bound to happen anyway. A direct threat from Puckett in this situation was simply inevitable. But she wasn't expecting the whole _I will eat your fucking soul part_, but, eh, who's she to judge a good threat.

"You've had your warning," Sam hisses.

Wendy glances around her, then remembers Rebecca is failing English and couldn't get out for their meeting. And now suddenly the tables have turned, and Shay and Puckett have officially taken over the offensive position Wendy has been so comfortable in the past two days. In fact, they took her ransom note and raised her one. Wendy really _really _doesn't want Sam to rip her limb from limb or eat her soul or any of that.

But Wendy stays strong. She can do this alone. She doesn't need Rebecca, who's really only her pawn anyways. Wendy clears her throat. "Uh, whatever you say, Puckett. But I'm serious about this. You can either become Ridgeway's latest leaked scandal, or you can meet me and Rebecca here at two and we can put this whole thing behind us." If they could read her carefully hidden thoughts they'd know that, if everything goes as planned, both will happen anyway.

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

Freddie knows something is wrong. Right away, he knows something is wrong.

Ironically it isn't the two girls he knows like the inside of his text books who tip him off that the situation in front of him has gone awry. There's smoke coming out of Sam's ears, and Carly is watching her in that weird proud way Freddie will never understand. What else is new?

It's the redhead standing a few inches above Carly, maybe a foot above Sam, who looks off to Freddie. It's Wendy, longtime friend of Carly, reliable source of porn and alcohol for Sam, and brief crush of Freddie himself - the gang knows her well, and is for the most part on friendly terms with her. She is usually cool, and chill, and able to keep up with the pace Carly and Sam set that tends to scare other girls off. But in this moment, standing with the two girls who Freddie's world reluctantly revolves around, Wendy looks quite uncomfortable.

Scared, really. But Freddie reasons that Sam does this to people, and Carly adores her too much to correct her, so he carefully ignores the situation as he saunters to the restroom. He's twirling the bathroom pass and whistling, trying with everything he has to not draw the attention of the only other people in the hallway.

"FREDDIE!"

Bummer.

He turns gingerly toward the three girls. Their bright clothing contrasts with the pale blue lockers, and Freddie wonders idly why people aren't sensible enough to just wear polos before he visibly gulps and mentally chides himself for acknowledging them.

"Uh, hey… I was just gonna… You guys… I…"

"Freddie," Sam starts abruptly. "Tell Wendy I like boys!"

"Um… Sam likes, uh, boys."

Wendy smiles like she's got an ace under the table or something. "Prove it." And she does in fact have an ace under the table or something.

Freddie's breath hitches in his throat, and he has to use the facilities more than ever now.

He begins inching toward the restroom, using urgent eyes and arched eyebrows to send Carly the SOS. But Carly is too busy looking back and forth between the other two girls, glaring at Wendy then biting her lip while her expression softens considerably as she watches Sam, then glaring back at Wendy.

Freddie eyes Sam carefully, trying to pick up her sign. She mainly just looks pissed, but at least she'll make eye contact. Though Freddie's regretting the eye contact now that she's narrowing her gaze, and her eyes are dilated and she looks like she's about to pounce him, which theoretically sounds good, but he's dreading it with every molecule of his being.

And then he does it. It's an accident, but his eyes move. Barely. Not even _move _really. His pupils must just barely twitch toward the hallway exit, and that sets Sam off.

Freddie is on his face and in an arm bar in what must be less than half a second.

Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, the part that isn't howling in pain, he takes this in as a new record, then Sam's yelling, "Tell her how I'm a huge turn on, dork! Come on, nub sauce! Tell her!"

Every nerve in Freddie's body is telling him to succumb to the wills of the hellion keeping him in a submissive hold of sorts, but instead that little part in the back of his mind that isn't howling with pain decides that he has a piece of dignity left, and he struggles but gets the words out without popping the vein in his neck, "No! You're scary!"

"_What_?" Uh oh. Freddie knows all hell is about to break loose. Oh well. It's a good day to die. A cheerleader batted her eyes at him when he held the door for her earlier.

But instead of hell he feels relief and it comes in the form of Carly pulling Sam off him.

Though Carly can't hold her long, and Wendy has taken to standing by looking mildly amused. Freddie knows this is his one chance and he takes off when Sam begins thrashing towards him, yelling every threat she can think of, the scariest of which is "Get back here, dork! I am too a turn on! I'll make you so hard you'll never recover!"

After much bacon Carly had finally convinced Sam not to go into the boys bathroom and murder Freddie. But she also had to assure Sam that Freddie was fair game at rehearsal tonight. Carly would warn Freddie not to go near anything flammable and not to wear tighty-whiteys. That was the best she could do for him.

They are slumped down in the hall outside the gymnasium. Carly has never missed so much class in her life, but she can't pull herself from Sam's side. Not when Sam is like this. She still hasn't finished her bacon and it's been _three_ whole minutes. Sam is falling apart at the seems.

"Carly, I'm a turn on, right?"

"Um… I think we have more pressing issues to worry about."

"Yeah, but… I mean I always thought I was like some sort of sexpot turn on, you know?"

Carly sighs. "Yes, Sam, you are a steamy sexpot turn on."

"Oh, you added steamy." Sam gives a genuine smile, the first Carly has seen in the last few days. The smile quickly turns to an alluring smirk and a wink. But of course there's the jocular glint in her eyes that discredits any signals that Carly might pick up on… Which she isn't. What signals? What?

"Did I? Uh…" Carly clears her throat and concentrates on straightening out her sleeve.

"Well whatever. Can we get back to class?"

"Eh, go ahead. I don't go to Home Ec unless it's a day we're testing the food." Sam leans her head back, and the skin across her neck stretches tight, and Carly watches the muscles in her throat work as she says, "Oh, thanks for the bacon."

Carly's eyes rove downward while she murmurs, "What are friends for?" They sit silently for a moment before Carly realizes that she's subconsciously synchronized her breathing with the rise and fall of Sam's chest. She gets up and heads for class. Friends aren't for checking friends out.

Freddie is surprised when Sam doesn't follow him into the bathroom. He figured the urinals or the sign that read _gentlemen_ wouldn't be enough to keep her from pummeling him to a bloody pulp. Carly must have had some good leverage. Meaning good bacon.

As he catches his breath he can't help but wonder what brought about that inquiry of Sam's sexual preference. But he quickly represses these ponderings. His thoughts on Sam Puckett are convoluted enough the way it is, and he doesn't need anything he finds repulsive to mix them up more… Or anything he finds extremely hot, for that matter.

Freddie pushes this last part out of his mind as well and finds sanctuary in the fourth stall. He's keeping his breathing easy, wondering why things like this work him up so much lately. His eyes listlessly scan over the marker conversation on the stall door inches from his nose while he decides he hates being a healthy teenage boy.

Then what he's reading registers. He has to swallow hard. According to the boys who probably smoke in the fourth stall at Ridgeway, thirteen tallies to three says that Sam Puckett and Carly Shay are definitely fucking.

Freddie sighs, pushing his way out of the bathroom. As much as the thought pains him, he knows he needs to get to the bottom of whatever is going on. It's probably his duty as the guy friend or something. Chivalry can be a pain in his backside.


	3. AND

**A/N: Hey guys.

* * *

**

Wendy is done answering questions.

"I'm done answering questions."

Rebecca still doesn't see how this is going to work.

"I still don't see how this is going to… Wait, before I doubt the plan, what is the point of the plan again?"

Wendy sighs. She knows Rebecca is hungover, but _God _she is tired of explaining things. But not really. Actually, she doesn't mind it at all. She kind of, er, likes talking to Rebecca. But she's sure as hell gonna act irritated.

"The plan is to out threaten them in order to get them to suck face or something at two o'clock today. Which I think we've done. Out threaten, that is. Almost lost it, but Freddie Benson made for a pretty good distraction earlier, and I think Shay and Puckett forgot they had us on the defensive." Wendy waits until Mr. Hennings is done making his rounds checking their work. "But I've already explained this to you, Rebecca."

"Right, but I mean the plan before that. The plan that branched off into that."

"Umm… Oh! Right, uh, well we are getting some solid proof on the fact that Sam Puckett is in fact in to girls so that when that video I'm pretty sure exists of me and Sam surfaces, I'm in the clear, because _one_ of us has to be the gay one. That's just, you know, the law." Wait… Oh, wait, that's not the Rebecca version of the plan. "Uh, that is... Ah shit."

She's waiting for Rebecca's reply, wondering if it'll be a patronizing laugh or anger. Then a loud snore escapes her lab partner, and relief washes over her. "Rebecca," she whispers. She pokes her, and Rebecca pops up, saying something about a bikini wax or something. Wendy smiles, but she's pretty sure she's just smiling in relief, though she shouldn't be relieved. She should be pissed at herself for slipping on her actual agenda. Shit. She's getting too comfortable. She's letting her guard down around Rebecca. She'll make sure it doesn't happen again.

"What were you saying? I missed all that." Rebecca asks groggily, still blinking herself awake. Rebecca's frequent weekday night partying comes in very handy for Wendy at times like this.

"I was just saying that our plan is to get Sam Puckett and Carly Shay involved in a scandal that's going to be hallway-borne soon, and the point of this is to eliminate them as competition among Ridgway's male population, because then suddenly we're the most desirable couple in school. Or I mean duo, or pair, or two for one deal or whatever."

"Cool," Rebecca slurs, not really pronouncing the _l _at the end. Rebecca isn't really sure that Puckett and Shay are aware that together they're heavy competition to any girl in school (except of course herself), so there has to be an easier and less involved way to get rid of them in that particular arena, but Wendy seems pretty hung up on it, and Rebecca has to stay on Wendy's good side at least until this weekend. She needs someone to supply her party on Friday.

But she figures another question would be harmless. Plus, Wendy seems to get some sort of high out of explaining the plan, and Rebecca isn't about to deprive her of that. "So, we're actually gonna follow through and not spread the rumor that they're totally fucking if they show and do their thang at two o'clock today?"

"Yes."

"Uh, then what's the point?"

"It won't be spreading rumors after that. It'll be true. Sort of. Plus, I'ma take a picture and put it on Splashface."

"That's balls, dude. Um… Or, hey, what if we got a teacher to catch them or something? Like, they'd have to go to the office and all, and you know PDA spreads like wildfire. We won't even have to feed that flame."

Wendy pauses over the owl poop she had been subconsciously searching for bones of its prey…When Wendy is powerful enough to have a list, Mr. Hennings will indubitably be on it. "Actually Rebecca, that's, like, a great idea!" Shit, why hadn't she though of that? Maybe Rebecca is more than just a pawn.

Hennings walks by again. "Alright, girls, back to the owl feces!"

Sam's strange request via text message has Carly waiting outside the janitor's closet for some sort of urgent conference. Carly wishes Sam would hurry up. It's rude to be late to a meeting you called for. Plus, Carly only has three minutes before her next class starts, and the janitor will be back soon for the smoke break he takes in his closet unbeknown to the hierarchy of Ridgeway.

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

Seriously, her foot is intuitively tapping now. Where is Sam? She checks her phone again, opening the message. Oh. Sam said _in_ the closet.

She opens the door just enough to slip into the cramped, dank closet. The brief flood of light reveals Sam's face for a moment. Serious, but not despairing.

Sam gives a deep, slow nod. "Carly, thank you for joining me. I would invite you to sit down, but we're in a four by three closet, and there's only one stool."

"Uh, it's cool, Sam." Carly leans awkwardly into a few mops, and something kind of damp. "So what's up?"

"Well, I was thinking about the threat. You know. The one where Wendy and Berkowitz want us to-,"

"Yeah, I got it." It's too dark to see Sam, but Carly knows she's there. In the closeness and the climate of this closet the only heat she feels is coming off Sam.

"Well, let's do it," Sam says.

"What?"

"Let's just do the damn thing. I mean, if we don't they're going to spread that you and I are-,"

"Yeah, I got it."

"So we may as well, right?"

"Yeah…" Carly's throat is tightening again, and the goose bumps rising on her arms probably don't have as much to do with the climate of the closet as she initially thinks they do. "Um, yeah, okay." She swallows the lump down. "But what makes you think they aren't going to spread it anyway. They'll probably have a camera or something."

"I'll get Freddork on the details. He owes me anyway," she says menacingly. "Plus, what other choice do we have? I hate to say it, but we're… We're kind of… You know…" Sam sighs in the closest thing to defeat Carly's ever heard from her. "They've got us cornered. I hate being cornered. And Wendy, well..." Wendy could do some serious damage with her knack for manipulating the content of the whispers in the halls. But neither Carly nor Sam has to say it. They both know it is weighing heavy on the others mind. The fear remains daunting but isn't voiced. They are just going to have to be really careful about their game come two o'clock.

Carly, as usual when she is around Sam, is spurred to be sensible. But the only reason she can come up with to not do it is the fact that she kind of wants to do it, and she doesn't say that. She just says, "I wish there was another more foolproof way to get out of this than, well, you know."

"Yeah," Sam snorts. "And I wish I had a small jazz band to follow me around and play sick drum beats when I walk."

"And I wish I could spit acid to digest my food outside my body."

There is a difficult moment.

"Gibby?" Carly squints her eyes, looking around in the dark. She spots him huddled up in the corner.

"Hey guys."

"Gibby, what the hell are you doing in here?"

"Well I'm hiding from you, Sam."

Carly's eyes have adjusted a bit to the dark by now. She watches as Sam chews thoughtfully on her bottom lip. "Is it one o'clock _already_?" Sam asks Gibby.

Carly shakes her head as if to clear it. "Gibby, how are you even in here right now?"

"I'm a body contortionist. It's a hobby of mine. Also I barbeque competitively these days, and it's a spectator sport now, so if you ladies wanna come watch the man do his-,"

Sam doesn't have time for this. "Gibby! My stall! Now! I'll be there in a minute."

"Sam," Carly snaps.

"What? It's Thrusday. Swirlie day. Gibby has come to accept this. Don't want to offset the balance of nature."

Gibby hangs his head, but doesn't object. There is an uncomfortable shuffling among the three amidst the clutter, and after Gibby's bare stomach is shoved into Sam's face for about three second or so he's gone and they're alone again.

After regrouping and wiping her face down in such a way that would rid of Gibby germs, Sam shifts back into her default. She's all nonchalance as she's eying Carly now. "You ready for this?"

Carly gives a few feeble nods.

Sam gives one sure nod. "Alright. High five for solidarity."

They high five.

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

"Wait, since when did your sexuality become a negotiation?"

Sam bats him away for about the eighth time. Literally bats. She's got a wooden slugger in her locker. "Back off, Fredward. This is none of your business!"

"Yeah, but you said that if I broke into Wendy's locker and got rid of the camera then you'd let me in on everything!" Freddie whines.

"Yeah, but I had to break into the locker for you."

"Oh come on. Wasn't that like a given? Seriously, I disabled the camera and-,"

"Eh, okay, yeesh!" Sam waves her bat above her head. "Stop with the tech nerd talk."

Freddie's arms hang limp at his side. "I just took out the battery." His voice is small. He's watching Sam's bat wearily. "Please, just tell me what's going on."

Sam's jaw juts out as she glares up at him, hands on her hips. "This is not story time, Benson. Do I look like a fucking educational lamb puppet to you?"

He gulps. "Um, no."

"Good, because I'm not an educational lamb puppet, therefore there will be no story time!" She's gripping the bat rather tightly.

Carly is biting on her pinkie nail. She's a wreck, but she's trying to keep the manic chewing constrained to just this one finger. Or she'll have nubs for fingernails like a hobo! She really doesn't want hobo fingers. But what she doesn't want even more than hobo fingers is for everyone to think she's a _you know_, which Wendy will inevitably make sure of if Carly and Sam slip up in this precarious situation. Hobos don't have cable.

"Sam, er," Carly has a difficult time pulling her finger away from her mouth. "You probably should stop threatening Freddie with a wooden baseball bat. Just sayin'." She immediately continues chomping on her nail.

Sam is far from happy with the nub after his little stunt in earlier, but she has more pressing issues to deal with at the moment. But come rehearsal tonight, Freddo better stay away from all things flammable and hope he's not wearing whitey-tighties. "Fine." She lowers her weapon. "Fine, whatever. You can listen, nub sauce."

"Thank you," Freddie sighs, finally letting his guard down.

Sam watches him thoughtfully, her jaw jutting from side to side as she considers him. Then she suddenly chucks a marker. Carly's wide eyes follow it for a moment, then lock themselves back on Sam. She's still going to town on her nail. "But before you listen, you have to go get my sharpie."

Freddie straightens up, weighing his height on Sam for all it's worth. He looks down on her, chest out, eyebrows furrowed, ready to flout. Sam just throws her hip to the side and creates a menacing tempo between her palm and the barrel of the bat. Freddie goes to get the pen.

When he's out of earshot, Sam turns urgently on Carly. "Alright, they'll be here any minute now, kid. You ready for this?"

Carly's eyes widen, if possible, as she nods quickly. She puts her finger pack to her mouth, then almost crosses her arms, then her finger goes back to her teeth where it is further mutilated.

Freddie is back with the pen. "Here, Sam. Now what-,"

"Ooops! Alright, go get the marker again, Fredhead." Freddie looks like he might challenge Sam, but she just has to flare her nostrils and he's going to retrieve the marker _again_, dragging his feet a bit this time.

Sam glances at her phone and informs Carly, "Just a few minutes now." She looks Carly up and down once. "You don't look to well, Carls."

"M'fine." But if Carly was fine she wouldn't be gnawing on her nail and she'd be reprimanding Sam for threatening Freddie with a bat. Carly understands though. She doesn't really want to talk about what's going to happen in front of Freddie either. In fact she doesn't want to talk about it in general. The more she talks about it the more she thinks about and the more she thinks about it the more strings start attaching themselves to what's coming at two o'clock. Or in a few minutes now. Carly starts pacing.

Freddie is back with the marker. Again. "Here, Sam. Now please-,"

"Oh, there it goes again. Goddamn marker. Run along, Freddie." This time she just nudges his rear with the bat, and he takes off for the pen with alacrity comparable to that of a slug.

"Alright, Carls, I was thinking if we just planned exactly how we're going to do this down the last tooth, then it won't be so weird," Sam tries hopefully. "I mean, it's just one kiss."

Carly nods agreeably. "Yeah, sure. What do you wanna do?" Her voice is a few pitches too high, isn't it? If Sam notices, she doesn't bother pointing it out.

Tick tock, it's two o'clock. The hall is emptied as promised. Wendy and Rebecca are positioned against the lockers as expected. Their expressions are smug and demeanor triumphant as inevitable.

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

Sam is cool.

She's slouching in a confident air as only Sam can. She barely has to exert herself to come across as bored. She's got Freddie standing by a few locker rows down, which somehow gives her some inexplicable comfort that she's simply to tired to discredit. She's watching Berkowitz and Wendy in a disgusted but completely unguarded way. She isn't about to let them think they've gotten to her. That's the last thing that's gonna happen. Also that's why she's got Carly standing behind her, because Carly is kind of, but totally definitely a nervous wreck.

Carly takes Sam's cue. They're gonna play it cool. Right. She can look cool and confident and totally not nervous. She just can't decide if she would look less nervous with her hands in her pockets or behind her back, so she tries both, twice, then decides she should just cross her arms, pulls back, then crosses them for real. Then she figures the more pressing issue here is which foot her weight is on. After trying both a few times, she settles on the left. She swallows hard. Then again. She blows a loose strand of hair from her forehead, which immediately falls back in to place. She blinks. She blinks again. Alright, now she must totally look cool and confident.

If her desire to laugh were greater than her desire to remain business-like and imposing, trust you me, Wendy sure as hell would be laughing. Puckett is playing shit cool, but Shay is a wreck! This brings her great joy. Though she was initially hoping Puckett would be the wreck… Ah well. No need to dwell on the bad. Things are going swimmingly. Except she just realized there's no battery in her camera. This isn't Puckett's handiwork. There's no peanut butter smudges, and it's not broken. And Shay seems down for the count as far as logically removing the camera threat goes. Wendy figures Benson is standing by hidden amongst the lockers somewhere.

"Alright, let's get down to business. You guys know what to do?"

Sam glares at Wendy through narrowed eyes. "Yeah, sure. We love playing your sick shit."

Wendy hates Sam's lack of emotion, but keeps her own expression passive as well. For a brief moment she looks at Sam and she's not glaring or challenging, she's just looking at Sam, and thinking about a time before Jake's party, a time that seems so far in the past, a time when they might even hang out on the weekends and enjoy each other's presence… But, that isn't this time. In this time one of them has to be the gay one and it's NOT going to be Wendy. Also things haven't been the same between Wendy and Sam ever since Sam filled Wendy's bra with chocolate pudding and froze it then beat Wendy's brother with it the next morning. So this standoff has been a long time coming.

Wendy nods. "Okay, well, hop to it. Show us your undying love." She nods again, but this time it's only meant for Rebecca and it goes undetected by Carly and Sam. Rebecca immediately pulls out her phone and sends a text.

"Um, see, does it have to be undying love?" Sam asks, mostly stalling. She actually did pick up the nod, but what Wendy doesn't know won't hurt her. She's looking around, but she's not sure what for. Just anything that's off.

Wendy is a bit taken aback by the question, but remains composed. "Like what, Puckett?"

Sam is examining the ceiling now. Carly is looking at Sam. "I dunno," Sam starts, still looking up. "Um… Like could it be pent up sexual tension instead? I don't really believe in the whole," air quotes, "_love _thing, you know."

Rebecca nods in solemn agreement. "Agreed, yes. Fair enough. Sexual tension it is."

Wendy huffs, and wants to tell Rebecca she doesn't call the shots, but refrains for whatever reason. "Fine, whatever. Just hurry up." If Gibby got their text, Briggs should be coming down the hall any second now. "Let's just get this over with, alright."

Sam desperately wants to counter. Every inch of her being tells her to counter. After years of picking fights and manipulating banters into fisticuffs she really just wants to piss Wendy off. But Sam is tired of this bullshit. And Carly is practically dying in anxious anticipation. And this chapter is getting hella old to write.

Sam clears her throat, and turns toward Carly. Carly follows her cue, wishing they had been a bit more decisive on how they were going to do this.

Sam is, as usual, faithfully on the tail of Carly's thought process. "So, uh… How you wanna do this?"

"We could, you know, lean, and then kiss."

Sam nods, considering. "Yeah… That's a concept. Or I could lick the length of you face."

"Or _I_ could lick the length of _your _face!"

Sam nods. "Yeah, alright."

"Wait, never mind."

"Just do it!" Wendy finally bursts, and though Freddo's out of earshot, Sam idly figures he could probably hear Wendy there. Then that idle figuring is at the forefront of her mind, and she's pulling the marker from her pocket again. She's not sure if he's been watching or not, but he doesn't know about this part, and he is not going to find out. She chucks the marker down the hall for all its worth. Freddie emerges from his nook among the lockers quite a ways down and looks like a sleepwalker as he chases after it.

Sam chuckles a bit, smirking, wondering if Freddie even consciously knows what he's doing, happy for the successful continuation of stalling, when something very rare happens.

She's caught off guard.

Apparently Carly is not trying to stall.


	4. your mom

Sam can't believe they got PDA.

"I can't believe we got PDA."

Carly can.

"I can."

They are sitting in Principal Franklin's office, waiting for him to finish his corn cakes in the teacher's lounge. Carly's not sure how long she and Sam were, um, embracing before Briggs showed up. She kind of lost track of things there. But she does know Briggs showing up was no coincidence. "We were supposed to get caught in a public display of affection," she tells Sam. "Rebecca and Wendy planned it."

"But why the hell would they want us to get PDA?" Sam asks, spinning in Franklin's chair behind his desk.

Carly shrugs. She wishes Sam would stop spinning so she could catch her eye. They haven't looked at each other since Briggs caught them, and Carly figures the sooner they do, the easier it's gonna be. She's just too tired to figure out why it's not easy now. "Maybe Wendy's still hung up about you freezing yogurt in her bra and then beating her brother with it that one time." She doesn't want mention what both of them must be thinking Wendy actually _is _hung up about. It's been mentioned enough. It's like beating a dead horse now. And it gives Carly this dull ache in her gut when they talk about it.

Sam does stop spinning, but she's too dizzy to stay trained on Carly. "It was pudding, Carls. Yogurt? Please. Lame. Plus, that was like a year ago." The spinning picks up again.

Well, if they can't look at each other, the only progress Carly is going to make will have to be up front. "Sam, why'd you do it?"

"Put pudding in Wendy's bra? I dunno. I had fish sticks that night."

"No, I mean… You know what I mean!"

"Mmm… Nope, no idea." Sam isn't gonna be the nice guy today. She's just gonna keep spinning in the chair until Franklin comes back or until she effectively breaks it.

Carly is flustered, but she's distracted by the necessity of keeping up the pattern of rolling her tongue in the back of her throat, then pressing it against her teeth, then smacking her lips hard, then repeat. She just can't shake the feeling of Sam's tongue in her mouth.

Yep, Sam slipped her the tongue. Big time. Carly was surprised because she was the one who initiated the kiss in the first place, then within a matter of seconds Sam was counting Carly's teeth with her tongue. Carly assumes that Sam thought it would be some hilarious joke, but still, she can't help but question the motives.

"Sam, you do too know what I mean. I'm talking about you… you know…" It feels so taboo for some reason. "Slipping me the tongue."

Sam's spinning falters momentarily, then picks up. "Is that what that was?"

"Yes, Sam, I'm pretty sure that's what that was!" Oh, she sounds shrill. She doesn't want to sound shrill. Shrill sounds worked up. She's not worked up. "SAM!"

Sam throws her arms out as she makes a turn, successfully stabilizing herself on Franklin's desktop. Her eyes are making lazy circles everywhere, but she's at least facing toward Carly now. "I thought it would be a hilarious joke," she explains with a shrug and a forced smile, looking adorably innocent. No, scratch that. Carly will buy none of this adorable business. She has seen Sam's manipulation in action way to many times to be victimized by it.

"Sam, seriously, that's not a hilarious joke. That's not even close to funny. You realize now everyone in school is gonna know about this, and instead of an innocent peck, we… Well, _you_-,"

Sam has sobered up enough to look Carly in the eyes now. She's smiling. "Oh, don't gimme that, Carls! You were the one with the roving hands, my friend."

Carly buries her face in her palms, waiting until she knows she can keep her voice even, then looks back up. "Sam, that wasn't… Look, I… Um…"

Sam looks Carly up and down, not even bothering to hide it. Carly isn't aware that she's readjusting her shirt and sucking in her gut until Sam smirks and throws her legs up on the desk. "Whatever you say, rover."

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

The hallways of Ridgeway are abuzz with the latest scandal.

Freddie is dutifully trying to snuff it out. No prevail so far. This news is simply too juicy. Carly Shay, the most well liked person in school and every guy's dream girl, and Sam Puckett, the girl who gives swirlies in the fifth stall and stole your wallet but you somehow still owe her money, they received PDA. It is certainly juicy information.

He just can't believe he missed it! Not in a weird way. Not in the teenage boy way. Um… In a chivalrous way! He just wanted to be there for them.

It must've happened when he went to get the marker Sam threw, an action he admittedly wasn't conscious of until the marker was actually in his hand. Then he turned around and saw Wendy and Rebecca Berkowitz busting up in ribald laughter while Briggs screamed at Carly and Sam, who were both a little pink in the face, messed up in the hair, and swollen in the lips.

Freddie doesn't have time to finish his thoughts because sixth period ends and the hall fills with the clatter of students and the arrival of fresh points of view on the whole ordeal. Most of the football team seems rather thrilled, and there's a lot of _I knew it_'s among the girls.

Over all the excitement Freddie can barely hear his name being called to the office via intercom. Wendy and Rebecca are called too.

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

Principal Franklin has his hands crossed atop his desk. He's watching Carly and Sam under heavy brows, considering them thoughtfully, but not angrily. Carly is grateful for this. Sam doesn't really care, she just wants to get the hell out of here and get a Fatcake.

He's not really sure what the protocol for this particular situation calls for, so he starts in with the usual. "Here at Ridgeway, we strive for quality, equality, team spirit-,"

"Me and Carls got a ton of team spirit, don't we Ted?" Sam asks like this is the funniest thing in the world, throwing a good natured elbow jab into Carly's ribs. Carly looks more disapproving than Franklin does. Sam droops into her seat. "Too soon?"

"Too soon," Carly confirms. She figures she should take the floor now. "You run a lovely school here, Principal Franklin. It's a well oiled machine with a great staff. A real tight ship."

"Are you kidding me?" Franklin asks. "Howard and Briggs are both clinically insane and Mr. Hennings tried to sell his green club organic weed."

"Well, technically there's carbon in all weed, so it's organic by definition. If they paid extra they got ripped off."

Carly is too busy drastically changing her angle to chastise Sam. "Right, yes, of course Principal Franklin. The staff is nuts! I mean, what's up with Mr. Howard's new bathroom pass system? Crazy."

"The bathroom pass system is actually a very well working and revolutionary idea. I'm going to send the layout to the superintendent tomorrow."

"Oh."

Carly shrinks until she's lower than Sam, who is shaking her head lovingly. "You tried kid. Now, Carly, this is a metaphor. I metaphorically want you to metaphorically hand over the metaphoric torch of the conversation before you get a metaphoric cap busted on your ass because you're such a damn suck up. Metaphorically speaking of course." Carly simply sighs wondering what Principal Franklin is thinking of this.

He actually doesn't mind. That was the most intelligent conscious stream of its length ever to come from that girl's mouth, and it had nothing to do with fatty meats. Also Franklin has this impossible soft spot for Samantha Puckett which makes anything she says plain adorable.

Sam stands up and approaches Franklin's desk, leaning down so she can prop herself up on an elbow in front of him. "Ted, babe."

Carly inwardly groans. Then coughs. Then looks everywhere but at Sam's rear.

"We know you can pull a few strings," Sam says with a wink. She doesn't mean for the wink to be suggestive. She's just letting Franklin know that they're on the same page.

Principal Franklin has a chicken pot pie waiting in the teacher's lounge. He decides to turn them over to Briggs.

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

Game over.

Wendy had it, the framework, the scheme, the perfect balance between meticulous planning and chicanery. And yet here she wallows in her defeat. Not that Shay and Puckett _won_. It's just they weren't crushed, so that means Wendy didn't win.

Apparently the fact that Puckett and Shay received a rightfully deserved PDA was simply enthralling news for Wendy's fellow students. Many were interested, many were amused, but few were perturbed. As far as the male population goes, no one was put off. This new scandal probably heightened Shay and Puckett's popularity among the boys, whether Shay and Puckett are aware of it or not. Wendy really screwed up. There was a major miscalculation in there somewhere.

The jig is up. Game over.

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

The hostility is rising, overwhelmingly so.

Oh, but not overwhelming for Briggs of course. She is confidant that she can handle any level of hostility one of these ungrateful ruffians might reach. And she can see right through their trickery, and their flimflam! She knows there's more to this tale than these five hooligans are letting on. She just needs to smoke them out. Theoretically, of course. Actually using a bee smoker to smoke children into giving up information is irreversibly harmful! And it's been specifically featured as inexcusable in the teacher handbook as of recent events... So...

At any rate, with Randy Jackson as her witness - theoretically, of course - she. Will. Smoke. Them. Out.

Mrs. Briggs thought it would be best to keep the five delinquents in the same room, knowing good and well that there is some dispute among them, that there are teams of some sort, all in hopes that whatever piece of the puzzle is missing from Puckett and Carly Shay's story will be unveiled.

So far no gain. Briggs is letting the punks' simmering and contrasting emotions boil down into this cloud of hostility. Or what she habitually reads as hostility, as hostility is what gets students expelled. She has been masterfully cracking children from their information locks years before any of this riffraff was even born! She can sure do it now.

She scans the five hell raisers occupying the first row of desks in her classroom. The one the end - the one with the Jewish name - she's holding a pocket mirror and applying eyeliner. Next to her is Wendy… Wendy Something, and Wendy is on the edge of her seat glaring at Puckett, who is seated in the middle desk, following a pattern of glaring back at Wendy, smiling reassuringly at Carly Shay, then mouthing threats to Edward Benson in the last desk. Briggs wonders what the typically well behaved Eddie Benson is doing in here. Oh well. Guilt by association.

It's about time these hoodlums coughed up the details.

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

Gibby seems to have misplaced his banana.

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

"Alright, you little thugs!" Briggs slams her yard stick down on Sam's desk. Freddie jumps all the way over in _his _desk, but Sam, the target, is not remotely fazed. Briggs turns away to hide her disappointment. "I'm giving you little demons one more chance. Spill!"

Carly isn't sure why Sam and Wendy are refusing to talk. Must be some mutual battle of wills. "They blackmailed us!" Carly finally lets out, pointing desperately to Wendy and Rebbecca. She's not involved in the battle of wills. Plus, she has to get home and bake cookies with Spencer.

"Is this true?" Briggs snaps.

"Define true…" Rebecca starts with an inquisitively arched brow.

Wendy waves her off. "No! No it's not true!"

Freddie takes a deep breath. "Yes, actually I can vouch for Carly and Sam on this one. The before affair of the publicly displayed affection between these two," he motions to Sam, who glares, and Carly, who blushes, "was rather fishy in the respect that Rebecca and Wendy had something to do with it. Handcrafted the situation, in fact."

"Oh," Briggs starts, looking pleased. "That is very sharp of you to pick up on, Mr. Benson. Too bad…" Briggs suddenly takes a menacing step toward Freddie, brandishing the yard stick. "I DON'T CARE."

Freddie sinks glumly into his desk.

Briggs composes herself, straightening out the ruffles on her blouse. "I want to hear from the young ladies who were actually involved."

Carly and Sam remain silent.

Wendy can see the rather violent reproach flash before Briggs actually does it, so she's suddenly starting with, "Uh, wait, uh…" Whoa, where did that come from? Is she helping Shay and Puckett out now? Well, it's probably years of getting out of trouble together, and now they're being faced with a common enemy. Wendy clears her throat, setting her idea of the enemy straight again. "I just want to say that Rebecca and I do not feel our presence is warranted. There is no proof that we were involved."

"You were at the scene of the crime!" Briggs points out.

"True," Wendy says. "But there are no allegations to prove our guilt, so we plead innocence."

"GUILTY UNTIL PROVEN INNOCENT!" Briggs screams, pointing the yard stick about an inch away from Wendy's eye. Wendy is unfazed. Briggs has to turn away to hide her disappointment. Briggs clears her throat, and begins pacing in front of the five guilty little tricksters. "What about you, Puckett? You've been quiet."

Sam shrugs. "And you've been loud. What's your angle, Briggs?"

Briggs stops pacing in front of Sam's desk. "What exactly brought about that…" She glances uneasily at Carly, then clears her throat. "That publicly displayed affection?"

Both Wendy and Carly are expecting Sam to recount the ransom note or something, but she doesn't. She yawns, and stretches, then meets Brigg's mean stare with a bored gaze. "I dunno. Teenage hormones? Unreleased sexual tension? You name it." Wendy literally has to hold her jaw in place. It's threatening to fall open.

Even through the hell Wendy has put Puckett through this week, all the and drama, Sam is still keeping the code. You know, the code. The kid's code. Never tell on a fellow kid. Wow.

But before Wendy can fully feel respect, or remorse, or register anything really, Gibby walks in. "Hey, have any of you guys seen a banana? It's, like, yellow… Um, oh, and shaped kind of like a crescent moon. Seen it?"

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

Principal Franklin returns with a plate full of chicken pot pie to Mrs. Brigg's room. He finds the five kids he left in the care of Mrs. Briggs where they should be, all looking discontent. Also Gibby, who is kind of blubbering, rolled into fetal position in the middle of the floor.

Mrs. Briggs has the wrath of her yardstick pointed down on him. "Stop you're crying, you fiend! Speak! You will suffer if we have to call your mother in to translate again - Oh! Hello Principal Franklin. How's the chicken pot pie?"

"Oh, it's quite rich, actually - but, er, what exactly is going on here?"

Gibby is hugging Franklin's legs. "The mean lady person won't stop yelling at me!"

Franklin looks to Freddie for an explanation, who dutifully informs him, "Mrs. Briggs has been unnecessarily questioning us about Carly and Sam's PDA ordeal, and Gibby came in looking for a banana, and he briefly revealed that he has been a bystander to all of the events leading up to Carly and Sam's thing, and now she's questioning him," Freddie finishes wearily.

Franklin nods. "Thank you, Freddie." He turns on Briggs. "Fran, you are excused."

"Oh, but Principal Franklin, I was only-,"

Franklin drags out the syllables, "Ex_cused_." After she's gone, Franklin helps Gibby to his feet. "Now, Gibby, just tell me everything, and I will see to it that you get a banana. Start from the beginning."

"Well, it all started about fifteen years ago-"

"No, you nub," Sam cuts in. "He means the…" She glances at Carly. She doesn't want to use the term _PDA ordeal_ that seems to be catching on. "The… you know!"

Gibby figures it out, then repositions himself so he's sitting cross legged on Briggs' desk. "Well, the other day I was sitting in my locker… Well, I was actually locked in my locker by Sam the night before that and I had to stay in there over night because I owe the janitor five bucks so he wouldn't release me… But anyways, I overheard Wendy and Rebecca and Carly and Sam, and they were fighting about something, and Rebecca was laying down some pickup lines on Sam."

Rebecca smiles and raises a fist into the air.

"Anyways," Gibby starts, "Sam and Carly got real mad and stormed off. Then later I was in the hallway with the juice box machine, and I had just gotten back from swimming, and a squirrel stole all my clothes, so-,"

"Wait," Franklin starts, holding up a finger. "Where were you swimming?"

"Um, in the school pool outside. I always swim after recess."

"We don't have recess," Freddie says.

"Or a school pool," Carly adds.

"Oh." Gibby considers this. "Well that makes things weird. Anyway that rascally little furry critter took my clothes so I wrapped a towel around myself and snuck or sneaked or something into the school, and I heard Rebecca and Wendy scheming away by the juice box machine. They were saying something about threatening Carly and Sam into swappin' some spit," Gibby tries to high five Freddie. Freddie ignores it.

Carly is blushing again, and Sam sees it, then starts, "Watch it, Gibby."

"Anyways, then I was hiding in the janitor's closet because I always hide around one o'clock on Thursdays. That's swirlie day. But Sam always finds me anyways, like today, because she and Carly were actually in the same closet as me, and they were trying to decided whether or not to do the whole kiss face thing with each other, wondering if it was worth it and if Wendy and Rebecca's threats were true." He exhales wearily. "Then I found a quarter. Then I lost my banana. Then I came here. _Ta da_!"

Franklin rubs his temples. "And how are we supposed to know that's all true?"

Wendy doesn't even think about it. "It's true."

It's not long before Principal Franklin decides to let them all off the hook. He figures mending this mess among themselves is going to be punishment enough. Plus he's got to get home. His wife is making breakfast for dinner tonight!

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

Wendy hadn't apologized not over text in… since she got a phone. And it had been frightening, but refreshing. She hopes Carly and Sam know she's sincere.

And she doesn't feel like it's game over anymore. She's just accepted her fate. She has to be the gay one.

After she's finally told Rebecca all that's been boiling down inside her, the real reason for her plan all along, Rebecca is laughing. Wendy was afraid of that.

"No, I'm not laughing _at _you… Okay, yeah I am, but not because I think you're weird or anything. It's just funny!"

Wendy is not amused. "I don't see how."

"Well, you take it so seriously! I mean who cares if you and Puckett made out. Whatever. Power to you. When it does surface, dudes are only gonna think it's hot. Well, the dudes who matter." As in the very shallow, pig headed dudes.

This makes Wendy smile. "Yeah?"

"Sure! I mean, there doesn't even have to be a gay one! We have officially reached an age where chicks can make out and be totally straight!" This makes Wendy feel better, though she knows it may not be totally credible. Rebecca is kind of, but absolutely definitely a crack whore after all. "Tell you what," Rebbecca starts, still laughing. "Next time I'm high we'll totally experiment - in a totally straight way, of course."

Wendy is laughing now too. "Yeah, _okay_…" She laughs it off, but later she will realize that she just subconsciously made the decision to start spending less of her allowance on scarves and gel pens and more of it on Rebecca's weed.

But in the mean time what she does consciously realize is that maybe there is more to this friendship than benefits.

"Hey, wanna go get a tattoo?"

"Sure."

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

Gibby and Freddie are sitting on the steps next to the gymnasium, waiting for the cheerleaders to get out of practice.

"Hey, Freddie, do you think the whole Carly and Sam playing tonsil hockey thing is super hot, or what?"

"Um, no Gibby I don't because I respect both of… Well, I respect Carly and tolerate Sam and I am taking it upon myself to keep chivalry alive, so no, I'm not going to call it hot. They were blackmailed anyway, and even if they weren't, it's they're decision and I would support them, not ogle at them." There's a difficult moment. "But, yeah, it's totally a dream come true."

"Right?" Gibby explodes. He offers Freddie his pudgy fist, saying, "Knucks, man!" Freddie smiles and obliges and they settle into a comfortable silence, before, "Hey, Freddie, wanna come watch me competitively barbeque tomorrow? It's a spectator sport now, and-,"

"Nope, not really, no."

This would usually put Gibby down, but the first cheerleaders just came out, and they're all in short shorts, so he's all good.

**WWWWWWWWWWWW**

Carly doesn't know why she hasn't left Briggs' room yet. They were dismissed at least ten minutes ago. But Sam decided she should stay and spray paint the hell out of Briggs' blackboard, and Carly simply didn't leave. It's not like she had a choice. Leaving Sam's side has become rather complicated these days.

"Done yet, Sam?"

"Yeah, almost…" She dots the I on _titts_. "Oh, wait, I almost forgot to say Briggs eats pants!" She starts shaking the can again and Carly decides to get comfortable. She settles into Briggs' chair and watches Sam, feeling more content than she has been in days.

Almost.

There's still one issue tugging at her that she just can't shake. But she's either too embarrassed about it, or just doesn't like the ache in her chest and the stomach flips that come when she thinks about it. But, like usual, Sam knows what she's thinking.

"Look," she says between sprays. "I know we had a tough few days. I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"Sorry for letting you get dragged into this." Sam watches Carly closely, searching for something, Carly's not sure what.

"It's okay," Carly assures. Her cracks voice a bit. Sam watches her for another moment, then seems to give up, and goes back to spray paint the word _pants_. A beat passes. Then, "Why'd you do it, Sam?"

"Do what?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about! You… you know… Came on to Wendy that one night. Why'd you do it?" Carly already knew why she did it. It was called whimsical hormones and underage drinking. But she still wants to hear it from Sam.

"Look, following through in a drunk game of spin the bottle is not the same as coming on to someone," Sam says dismissively. She almost goes back to spray painting, but she catches Carly's expression. "What?"

"Why her though, you know? Like, why not… I dunno." Is it hot in here? It's not hot in here. Carly swallows to keep her throat from swelling again. Yeah, it's really hot in here.

Sam steps down from the chair she's on, and steps closer to Carly. "Look, it's not gonna happen again anytime soon. You should've told me it bothered you this much, Carls."

Carly itches her nose. "It doesn't."

Sam sighs, then smiles, lazily holding her arms out to Carly. "C'mon. Bring it in, champ."

It has to be a few minutes before Carly even thinks to let go, and even then she can't completely separate herself from Sam, because that's just too big a task, so she holds on to the collar of Sam's pink flannel instead, keeping her close.

Sam smirks, and Carly must look like an idiot all beaming as she presses her forehead into Sam's, and she is thinking something along the lines of how much she loves her best friend. Her best friend who is just a friend, that is. Not the we're-just-friends-but-if-you-wanted-to-screw-I'd-totally-be-down kind of friend… Yeah, Carly is pretty sure that's not the kind of friends they are. Well, Sam's just naturally hands on when she sleeps. Yeah.

Carly is fingering the top button of Sam's flannel. Sam is still smirking, chewing on her lower lip. Carly can't stop looking at the smirk. She hasn't been drunk before but she's thinking maybe this is what she feels like and she's definitely not going to kiss Sam - the thought is not even crossing her mind - she simply wants to lean down and bite Sam's lip for her, and she's thinking maybe she might when Sam starts, "So Shay, I was thinking maybe next time some scandal about you and me gets spread, we make sure it's legit."

She's smirking, which is Sam's tell tale sign of an implied joke, and Carly laughs like it is a joke, but the lack of a jocular glint in Sam's eyes as she watches Carly now is making chemicals rush through Carly's insides, and her chest and other places are heating up fast.

The real kicker is the only nearby horizontal surface is Mrs. Briggs' desk. Oh boy.

* * *

**A/N: Hey. **

**You know what's funny? This is probably the only story I've ever written that I actually put any REAL thought or work into, and it's gotten the least feedback/reviews/favs/etc. considering its size. Man. Humbling. I really shouldn't try. ...Alright, I'm done being a whiny little bitch. **

**Thank you for reading. You're cute.  
**


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